Nature and Nurture
by Phantom Ice
Summary: There's a difference between being functional in society and being complacent in it. This is a happy medium that both Alfred and Arthur are going to have to renavigate in very different ways if they're going to make anything work between them. Luckily, sometimes love can teach us things that have nothing to do with romance. No dubcon, Slowburn, meta.
1. Arthur I

_A/N: Just some quick notes. Yes, another omega!Arthur hates being an omega and alpha!Alfred loves being an alpha and another author who's going to tell you 'but this fic is different!' lol. Honestly, though, this fic has a.) No sanctioned dub!con. As in, it's not treated by the plot as acceptable. b) Gross hyper-masculinity (alpha-inity?) is treated as gross hyper-masculinity and as a fault of society. Basically, this fic goes into some themes about sexism that could be triggering for some people, so read with that in mind. Go ahead an PM me if you want a list of specific triggers in that area. This society condones most of these activities_ _, and one of the main characters doesn't see the problem until much later in the story. The other is so opposed to the system that they end up in the realm of internalized misogyny where they hate pink and aren't like 'other girls/omegas' and end up unintentionally harming themselves. Basically, both Alfred and Arthur have somewhat toxic mindsets that they have to get over before they can love themselves or each other. It is a romance, but they both have to learn to look past the stereotypes and the relationship isn't easy at first, so major slow!burn._ _Basically, this takes place in the usual omegaverse society, but under a colder lense (not to put down any of those fics, I wouldn't be writing this if I didn't love omegaverse, I just wanted to talk about how a society like that could go very very wrong)._ _I think that's all the important stuff, so on to the story._

...:::*:::...

Arthur turned around in front of the mirror again, checking one last time that no part of his clothing clung to any bit of his body and that his sweater-vest looked as lumpy as it possibly could. Upon deciding that everything was to his satisfaction, he stopped for a moment more to observe his makeup free face in the mirror, touching his hand to one abnormally thick eyebrow. People were always telling him he should get them plucked or waxed or threaded, but he was glad for this Kirkland family curse. Anything that made him look any bit more unattractive was a positive thing in his book. Satisfied with his lack of appeal, Arthur looped his pleather satchel over his shoulder and turned to exit his room.

He made his way down the stairs as gracelessly as he could, scuffing the wood with the toe of his shoe and hitting each step with a flat foot instead of quietly on his toes. In the kitchen he filled and plugged in the electric kettle while shifting through the teas in the drawer next to the stove, plucking out a packet of English Breakfast.

As he waited for the kettle to boil, he reheated a scone, home cooked by his father two days before. It finished before the tea and he spread a bit of strawberry jam over it. He finished just as the sound of popping bubbles reached his ears. The boiling water was poured into his favourite tea cup- a white and rose imitation of one of the cups from Queen Victoria's best set- and he put in the bag, added a drop of honey and slid it in front of his stool with his scone, where he sat to enjoy his breakfast.

The rest of the house began to wake up around him as he ate. He could hear his brother- the only one of three that was currently living at home- start his shower upstairs. Somewhere down the hall, the door to his parent's bedroom squeaked open just as he took his second bite of scone. His father soon sleepily stumbled into the kitchen, looking down as he fiddled with the ends of his tie.

"There's some water heated up. In the kettle,"

"Hmm?" His father's head popped up, "oh, Arthur, how are you this morning?" Arthur just took another bite of his scone. "Well, if it's already is heated up..." his father continued as if Arthur had answered, picking out a tea with one hand and running the other through his thinning, but still curly, red hair. Next into the kitchen was his mother, her tie knotted perfectly and just finishing pulling her long blonde hair up with a tasteful bow. She grabbed her own teacup from the cabinet and then straightened her sky blue trousers where they had ridden up. Arthur's slight frame had almost certainly come from his father, who was on the lankier side, rather than his mother who had thick hips and legs and slightly rounded cheeks that left her constantly battling between a healthy weight and slightly over.

"Good morning, poppet*, how are you?"

Arthur savored his last sip of tea and quietly used his napkin to dab away any leftover jam from around his mouth. He tried to finish his food every morning before his brother walked in and clogged the air with the overwhelming scent of alpha. The stench never failed to make Arthur lose any semblance of an appetite.

"I'm doing well, mum." He slipped off his stool and rinsed his plate and cup off in the sink.

Rose Kirkland's green eyes followed her son and Arthur pretended not to notice her somewhat harsh features (it was her dark eyebrows, which while not as wide as Arthur's stood out prominently against her much lighter hair) soften as her sight roamed over his attire. He started to walk out of the kitchen and towards the front door. Traditionally his alpha, that is to say in his case his only living-at-home brother, should be escorting him to school. However, his parents were two betas and didn't really understand this social convention and so didn't press on it being followed. Arthur was sometimes unsure whether he was grateful for this or not; even if he had wanted an escort he would never stoop so low as to ask. Yet sometimes the walk was just too much. At other times he was proud of his ability to navigate the streets, so dangerous for his nature, on his own.

"Have a good day at school, son," James Kirkland shot out as he sat to his own tea and scone.

"Arthur!" His mother called as she strolled over to him. He turned around and she took both of his cheeks in her soft hands and lightly kissed his forehead, "be strong," she whispered almost harshly, like an order. Yet, for the first time since he had woken up, Arthur's lips twisted into something that might have been a smile.

As an intelligent beta with a steady job that no one berated her for having, Rose Kirkland couldn't completely empathize with Arthur's situation, but she could know it and she could hate how it hurt her son, and she could encourage him to have the strength that society told him was his vice.

"I will, mum," he whispered back. She smiled and turned back to the kitchen as Arthur moved to stand behind the front door. Taking a deep breath he lifted his chin, squared his shoulders and opened the door to the outside world.

His first steps out of his house were normal: a simple walking gait, casual, as he walked by the other houses in his neighbourhood. Things only began to change once he had left the sparsely populated area surrounding his home to head towards the bus station and into the city. A random splattering of people became groups of people which became a crowd.

Random pedestrians where disquieting, but not overly alarming, crowds were annoying, but not particularly troublesome. It was that intermediary zone that Arthur found the worst: where the sparse person had found friends and the crowd was still thinned out. That was where people both had the awareness to notice others and the knowledge that they blended into a larger group. As he walked into this zone, his footsteps became heavier, more solid and less like an omega's should. His eyebrows scrunched up and his mouth painted on a perfectly crafted scowl. It was this image that stomped past the first group of _them_ on the sidewalk. Just catcalls from them, nothing he couldn't ignore.

He wasn't so lucky with the second group.

A hand shot out and grabbed the edge of his sweater vest. He stopped. The normal chill of fear crawled up his spine as he found himself at the whim of an alpha. Despite any inner strength, biologically he was well aware he had nothing on the physical capabilities of an alpha, and the twirling scent that blew on the wind from this group counted three alphas and a beta.

There was a tug. His stomach turned. No matter how many times it happened Arthur always had the same thought: _this will be the one_. The one that wouldn't let him escape, that would use that superior strength to leave him with his pants around his ankles between narrow walls and the rest of the forgotten trash. Arthur collected himself- though that fear, as always, would never truly leave until he was far out of reach- and braced himself.

"Hey, darling, what's this lumpy thing for? I bet you'd look a lot better without it. While you're at it you might as well get rid of the trousers too." The rest of the group snorted.

Arthur turned his head and twisted his body to face the group as best he could considering the hand still holding his clothing. As he tried to turn the hand let go so that he could do so, but now he was surrounded. His heart fluttered uncomfortably.

It was a tall alpha, taller than him, at least, but that wasn't difficult. She had razor cut short brown hair, tanned white skin, and deceptively warm brown eyes. She put two hands on her hips and her feet were in a wide stance against the concrete. When he turned, her eyes ranked obviously and without any attempt to conceal their wanderings across his frame, from his head to his toes and back.

"You aren't so bad," she stated, "Those eyebrows are monster, but we can fix those. No, you aren't too bad at all."

The other two alphas snorted. The beta sighed, apparently bored. Arthur stayed silent.

The alpha then leaned in and attempted to sniff uncomfortably close to Arthur's neck. Arthur could only take a half step back with the alphas behind him, but he did what he could.

"I'd appreciate it," he spoke for the first time, "if you would keep your presence out of my personal space," he sneered derisively, his heart beating in his throat.

The alpha's eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in anger.

"Who the hell do you think you are to say that to me?" She demanded.

"I think I'm the human being who you just cornered on the street and prevented from getting to his destination, and who would really appreciate being able to get back on his way without being accosted," Arthur snapped back, all fake bravado. It was, he had discovered, the best way to get away, but also a tactic that could easily backfire.

"What's wrong with you?" One of the alphas behind him exclaimed, taking a step back as if Arthur's lack of social convention would catch. Arthur didn't stay to hear more. Instead, he turned and manoeuvered his way through the gap the alpha who stepped back had created and smoothly continued down the street. There was a halfhearted "hey!" but no one bothered to pursue him.

Alphas were said to be the bravest, strongest, and most motivated of the natures. The most likely to stand up for themselves and what they believe.

Arthur knew the truth.

They were just self-entitled bullies who believed they could get whatever they wanted without expending too much effort. Therefore, when he threw a wrench in those plans they tended not to pursue, not to be 'motivated', but to back off and find easier prey. An alpha never expected an omega to resist their advances, to back talk them. They expected to be able to corner them on the street, grab the hands of complete strangers, sniff their throats without them objecting with anything more than maybe a strangled whimper against it, and when alphas ran into something that went contrary to that, they were afraid. This was how Arthur survived, by not doing anything that was expected of him.

It was hard to live in a world where a quarter of the population believed they were entitled to your body. Where others thought that just because you spent four days every few months begging for it, you must always want it. That they could get you down on your knees with nothing more than a growl. It was hard, but Arthur managed; because no one was entitled to him but himself, and society, and certainly no alpha, was ever going to convince him any differently.

The rest of the groups he passed before he made it to the station were much of the same. Two more alphas tried to physically stop him by grabbing him like the first one. One reached for his arse as he passed, but never made it due to Arthur having a lot of practise swatting away stray hands. One told him he belonged on his knees (only the thought of evading an assault charge keeps Arthur from kicking that one onto his own knees. Then again, who would believe the bloke was assaulted by an omega?).

On the bus itself, there was a lot of not-so-subtle sniffing and absolutely horrid pickup lines, mostly revolving around how poor Arthur, obviously deprived of an authoritative figure in his life due to his obvious lack of an alpha escort- familial or otherwise- must want some or other alpha's prick in him. Arthur politely replied that the only place he would want their prick, if God would be so kind, was in a bear trap. He felt a bit safer on the bus, enough to reply like that, but he still knew he was walking a thin line between enough to make them want to leave him alone, and enough to deserve being attacked. Still, only weak omegas responded with willing passivity, and Arthur refused to be weak.*

Finally, Arthur made it to the school building. It was one of the few coeducational schools in the area. He may not like alphas, but that did not mean he wouldn't bear being in the same classes as them if it meant he could get an equal education.

As per once or twice every few weeks, today there was a line of protesters outside the front of the building. They boasted signs with slogans such as 'Coeducation will ruin us all' 'Alphas only!' and 'Omegas don't need math to cook'. The last one was Arthur's personal favourite simply for the fact that it was a completely false statement and the dim wielder didn't even seem to realise it.

With a roll of his eyes, Arthur began his march into the building. A protester shouted some drivel at him about how he'll never find a proper mate if he knew quantum theory, as they do to all the omegas who pass, and, as he did every day, Arthur ignored him. Once inside, the raised voices were more of a dull roar that Arthur could easily relegate to background noise. The protesters were annoying, but dealing with them was a good deal better than the alternative of having to take four home ec. classes and two omega studies. Here he had already finished home ec and only has to take one omega studies a year. Not that he attended that class when he could avoid it.

Head still held up high and nose upturned to give off his best holier-than-thou attitude, Arthur stomped his way down the halls. Things were better in side the school, as people who dared attend generally originated from more progressive families, but microaggressions are hard for even the most progressive of alphas to realise they are committing, much less stop, and even the most progressive of omegas not to encourage. And most of them were not, by any stretch of the imagination- or at least Arthur's imagination though he fears many in the outside world would disagree- the most progressive bunch.

Therefore, as Arthur passed things were as they always were. Most ignored him, a few whispered, a few edged away out of fear- some out of the fear that his behaviour, which in their minds just must be caused by some sort of viral hormonal imbalance, was contagious; some simply out of the fear of what he will do to them if they get too close. Legally, Arthur can't fight with his fists, but there is no one who knows how to use their words better. He boasted the proud accomplishment of once bringing an alpha to tears.

His locker was on the second floor: three hundreds hallway. He switched out his maths book for his English book, before quickly backtracking to the center of a perpendicular hallway where a set of double doors led to the library. It was a grand library with shelves not only lining the walls but interspersed throughout the room and pitied up high with books of all sorts. Best of all, unlike other private libraries, there was not a single sign preventing an omega from going into certain sections.

It was in one of these sections that would normally be cordoned off to omegas where Arthur found his best friend.

Kiku Honda was a tranquil quiet beta, as most betas were. The difference was that he had never expected anything of Arthur based on any preconceived notions of omegahood, and he had accepted Arthur as the unruly force of nature he was. Arthur knew he could trust Kiku not to tell him to 'just take the compliment' next time an alpha reached for his arse, or blame preheating for every time Arthur got upset or angry. Very simply put, Kiku didn't treat Arthur the way society generally treated omegas. Kiku simply treated him like another beta, and doing so made Kiku one of the few people in Arthur's life that looked at him as an actual human being and not a stupid delicate object.

"Good morning, Kiku,"

"Good morning," Kiku responded in kind, flipping a page in his book without looking up. Arthur would usually pick up a book and begin reading too, but with the bell just a few minutes away he knew the effort would be for nil. Instead, he sat up straight in his seat, crossed his hands over the top of the bench, and lost himself to one of his favourite activities: people watching. Not for any genuine like or enjoyment of people, but for something of a more sinister nature. Simply put, watching people was the easiest way to find out all sorts of interesting information about them, and the more information he had about others that they wished to keep quiet, the easier it was for an omega such as himself to stay safe and unbothered.

It was in this pursuit of staying safe that Arthur became a master of manipulation, and, therefore, a people watcher.

On the shelf up from the row he was facing there were two missing books. In the gap left by those two missing books, he could see into the next aisle. In the next aisle, in the space left between the shelves and the wall, there was an alpha. Brown hair, expensive jacket, lean build. Ian McKinley, year thirteen like Arthur, mediocre grades, swimming team. Arthur had an ear to the ground at all times and made it his business to know such things.

Ian was searching through the books in front of him. Arthur knew this library like the back of his hand and he quickly searched his mind for the categorization of that specific row of books. Paranormal romance novels, the type made for tweenage omegas. Arthur snorted, it was a very unomegalike sound, and an omega searching through the shelves directly in front of him turned around to look at him disapprovingly until he realised he had found himself face to face with Arthur Kirkland, at which point the boy quickly snapped back to his book titles. Unfortunately, there was no more information to be found or entertainment to be had, as those two, Kiku, and Arthur himself were the only people in Arthur's line of sight, and his nose and ears told him there were only about five more people in the entire library at all. Shame.

Arthur spent another minute or so just reading the spines of the books he was staring at. Textbooks, the specific area he was facing dealt in theoretical mathematics. He quickly drunk up the titles of these books, looking for one of interest. Arthur tried to complete at least one book from each section, simply because he knew, as an omega, there were very few places he could find such information. In this day and age, it was becoming harder and harder to keep omegas ignorant. The internet had made hiding all information all but impossible, and any omega with access to the internet was already a hundred times better off than his or her ancestors that came before. Unfortunately, it was not 'in fashion' to buy omegas computers or allow them too much access time to a source of internet connection. Arthur's parents weren't like this, thankfully, but still, from what Arthur had seen actual reputable educational sources were careful about what they posted. It seemed it would always be more accepted to publish actual physical journals for, Arthur could only assume, the very purpose of keeping them out of the view of omegas.

Arthur had just sorted the title 'Real World Applications to the Theories of Arthur Cayley'- Practical and a namesake, Arthur couldn't help but be curious- into his mind when the five-minute bell finally rang. Kiku gently closed his book and placed it in his backpack, stacking the other three next to him neatly on top of one another and smoothly standing and placing them in their correct slots on the shelves. Despite not being an omega drilled and taught since his youth to act as such, Kiku was one of the most graceful people Arthur knew. In fact, his quiet demeanor and gracefulness would almost lead one to mistake him as an omega from afar, if it weren't for his uncovered neck and often painfully neutral expression.

Arthur followed Kiku off the bench, and as soon as the beta had finished putting his books away he nodded at Arthur. Arthur nodded back, and they began their walk to their respective classes. Kiku to his Monday morning photography class, and Arthur to advanced English. The walk was mostly silent, as things often were with Kiku, but still companionable. Neither boy was driven to fill every moment with chatter and to them, the silence was peaceful and not awkward as it might have been perceived by others. Not to mention, with a beta by his side, Arthur got fewer stares and disapproving glances than he did walking the halls alone, and, though he's not exactly proud of it, he was glad for the occasional break.

The two of them split up with another mutual nod as Arthur started down the stairs while Kiku took an adjacent hallway.

"Good Luck, Arthur," Kiku wished Arthur. Arthur didn't speak much about things that make him uncomfortable except to rant on them as a source of aggravation, but Kiku is very perceptive. Therefore, he knew that Arthur had bittersweet feelings about his advanced English class. Arthur adored English: poetry and prose, obscure symbolism, and all varieties of figurative language set a fire in him that very few other things did. He loved the concept of the class itself, he just wasn't particularly fond of all the people involved in it.

It was the class in which he had to square his shoulders the strongest and hold his nose the highest, for in that classroom Arthur was the only omega in a sea of alphas and betas. It was common enough, the school was progressive but it wasn't an island. Outside forces still affected it and it's students. By this grade level there were four basic categories that most omegas fit into: had already dropped out to have and raise families; were staying in school while raising families, which took considerable time and effort that didn't facilitate involvement in advanced courses; was planning to simply finish school and immediately have and raise a family, meaning they weren't particularly fastidious with their grades or courses; or were afraid of the persecution of society and their peers that was sure to happen should they take any class that distinguished them as being too intelligent. All this led to very few advanced courses with any omegas in them at all, and to this particular advanced English class having only one.

After mentally preparing himself, Arthur marched into the room and quietly took his customary seat in the front as the alpha students flooded in while chattering to each other rambunctiously and the beta students settled in their seats conversing more quietly.

Sitting in the front of this class served a dual purpose for Arthur. He sat in the front in most classes, simply so that he could actually learn and not be distracted by the slack offs playing spitball in the back. Here it was for the same reason, but also so that he could tell the alpha chauvinistic pig of a teacher that Arthur was neither afraid of nor intimidated by him. Mr. Andrews had been trying to get Arthur to drop out of the class from the moment the man shook his hand and realised he was an omega. Extremist point deductions, unjustified detention slips, public humiliation, if it existed this alpha had tried. Arthur knew, though, that this was, if not his first then his most realistic, test of what life would be like when he finished high school. He was going to finish school and pursue a serious career, alpha at his side or not (hopefully not), and no underpaid, egotistical, thirteenth year English teacher was going to stop him.

The bell rang and the students shuffled into their seats as Mr. Andrews rose from his and began roll call.

"Alright, Arlovskaya, Bonnefoy, Brown, Carter, Smith," after reading every name, more to himself than the class, he would look up and search briefly for the student, nodding to himself as he located him or her. "Karpusi, King, Kirkland," there was no change in tone as the name was said, but Arthur watched his professor's eyes roam from Arthur's head to feet and feet to head as the man checked for any small infraction in dress code or anything else that could justify sending Arthur out. He wouldn't find anything. Arthur was a quick study. After the first time he was sent to the office for wearing "too thin" a neckband, Arthur always made sure his neckwear was drawn up and concealing, his trousers to his ankles despite propriety only demanding they reach mid-knee, and his sleeves to his wrists despite any social rule on arm coverage being deemed as archaic more than ten years ago. This alpha would find nothing in his dress to fault him of.

The roll finally concluded with:

"Hassan, Wang," and the teacher put his book down against his desk with a harsh thud before striding over to the white board.

"Alright class, what did you all think about last night's reading assignment?" He questioned, sitting down on the stool in front of the board with his feet in two separate continents.

Silence.

"Please, not all at once," he droned, brown eyes crinkling in amusement.

"It was... Off putting," volunteered one alpha,

"Yes, off putting!" Exclaimed the teacher, "that's an opinion. Off putting how?"

"Well, I just want to know what this chick's problem is" added another alpha, "she just starts freaking out over her mate's hand. It's pretty strange and dramatic,"

The teacher laughed, "Yes, Mr. Brown, well strange and dramatic seems to be the default for omegas,"

The alphas of the class broke out in snorts and laughter. The betas chuckled. Arthur turned red, thought from embarrassment or anger it was hard to tell.

"What about you, Arthur," the teacher singled him out, "what do you think of the climax of the story?"

He knew the question was not just a question, but a test. Well, if he thought he was going to catch Arthur having not done the assignment, he was sorely incorrect.

"I would say, sir," the last word was strained but not strained enough that he would be called out on it, "That there is no climax of the storyline rather it is a gradual realization by the omega woman portrayed through the symbolism of the hand. Therefore one could conclude that the climax comes in the moments before her realization is complete, but that occurs alongside the closing action of the narrative."

The teacher frowned.

He had said too much, he knew he had said too much. There was only too much to be said about this story. What did it represent but the imprisonment of already limited freedoms that mating brought to an omega? It was clear as day in the story and the symbolism and even the authoress herself who was, in fact, an omega. How, though, could this be the answer an alpha teacher in a room full of alphas and betas was searching for? No, in this environment his interpretation would be dismissed, thought of as whimsical, over emotional, and unfounded, no matter how well he supported it. Yet, what else could he say? What could possibly be the literary significance of this story if it didn't symbolize exactly what it was meant to symbolize? How did alphas interpret an omega's cry for help?

"Yes, well, Arthur, it is a study of realization. Can anybody tell me of what?... Yes, Arlovskaya?"

"The woman is coming to realise, through the hand, the power of her alpha," answered the smirking alpha.

"Yes, wonderful," exclaimed the teacher, clapping his hands on his thighs, "that's exactly it. She is realizing the physical and rightful superiority of her alpha over her by observing the strength of the hand. Early in the story, we see her remark on its large size, representing its ability to hold her as it sees fit, and as her mate is lying with his arm around her she has realised that it is only right that it do so,"

Arthur resisted every temptation to snort, knowing it would certainly get him reprimanded, thrown out, or questioned. Weakness and subservience, that was how an alpha interpreted an omega's plea. He was not surprised.

"The symbolism in this story, as you can all see, is actually quite straightforward. Hence, its use in the study of symbolism," the teacher continued, "the hand represents the alphainity of her mate, and therefore his right to head over her. She is realizing this power and reflecting on her awe over it."

Now Arthur's hands were clenching. Maybe it would have been better if that had been the actual message. At least then he could blame the bigoted author for writing it instead of his bigoted teacher for his interpretation. At least then he could pity the omega authoress for writing it instead of feeling this burning anger towards his alpha teacher for dismissing the true nature of her hard work. For dismissing the clear fear and imprisonment the fictional omega felt while trapped in the powerful and therefore potentially violent arms of her mate. Did everything have to be about alpha superiority?

As the teacher kept prattling, Arthur turned his head away, looking back so that he could school his expression. His eyes accidentally made contact with a pair of pale blue ones. The face they were attached to was firmly scrunched up in distaste. When the owner of that face realised he had made eye contact with Arthur, his demeanor softened, almost apologetic. Arthur's crunched up hand relaxed for a moment before tensing up again as he quickly sneered and looked away.

Francis Bonnefoy was the most disgusting sort of alpha. Oh, he was pompous, arrogant, sexualizing of omegas (unsettlingly sexualizing of everyone, really), just like the rest. The thing was, though, that Francis pretended to have compassion. He pretended to genuinely care about the pain and discomfort of others, and to express a detached disapproval over the societal normality of undermining omegas.

Arthur knew it was all a ploy to catch unsuspecting omegas in his web (he had been caught in that web for a short time once, when he was younger and more naive and starved for attention and justification), and Arthur himself was often the fly Francis had his beady eyes set on. Luckily, compassion was a characteristic Arthur didn't partake in. Contrary to what generally accepted stereotypes about his nature would lead one to believe, Arthur found it very difficult to sympathize with the pain and displeasure of others. He could feel righteous anger for the victims of injustice, but he couldn't necessarily feel bad for them. This quality that was part of Francis' arsenal was no longer going to entice Arthur.

Still, his touches were always too familiar and his tone too gentle. Arthur sometimes got the feeling Francis pitied him. Dealing with Bonnefoy was a trial of Arthur's patience and always ended with Arthur wanting to sock the alpha in his smug face.

At this moment, though, Arthur thought that maybe, just maybe, Francis had seen the story the way Arthur had, and for that he was… not completely disgusted with the alpha.

"Alright-" an aggravating half hour later the teacher stood from the stool and sauntered over to his desk, where he picked up a notepad- "now that we've properly analysed the text, I am going to assign each of you either this story or Friday's story to write an essay paragraph on. I will give you each a prompt for your story, and will expect you to use the symbolism in the story in order support your interpretation of the prompt. I will be handing each prompt out individually, so go ahead and talk amongst yourselves while I go around."

Chatter immediately burst out around Arthur, but he was careful to keep a straight face and continue studying the board, which contained only the name of the text and the page numbers it could be located on. Even had he wanted to, he couldn't speak. The teacher would call him out on it with an excuse about not discussing the story or something of the sort, really it was simply that 'omegas should be seen and not heard'. Outdated, yes, but no more rare for being so.

As the professor made his way around, Arthur silently prayed that he would receive Friday's story, which was unrelated to the plight of omegas in any way, and of which he could write an accurate, to the professor's standards, analysis of without giving in to any sort of temptation.

Arthur snuck a peak at Francis, who was now looking down at his textbook and tracing something with his finger. He was as pristine as ever, light blond shoulder-length hair pulled back into a purposely mussed ponytail, royal purple button down shirt- probably some expensive material, dark jeans that hugged his frame nicely.

Arthur wondered again what Francis' true thoughts on the story were, and debated the pros and cons of going up to him after class so he could know for sure. His farce of gentleness and care meant Arthur knew he didn't have to fear around him, as long as he could stomach all the fluff and pomp... and stayed in a public area.

The teacher made it to Arthur's desk.

"Arthur, you will be writing about the central meaning of today's story, including symbolism to represent the author's purpose in writing this short story-" and as simple as that the man walked away. He had spent more time with everyone else, perhaps giving pointers or even compromising on the subject, but he wouldn't compromise with Arthur. Arthur knew this prompt was on purpose. The man had purposely told him to write on a central meaning that Arthur suspected the teacher suspected that Arthur did not agree with and that was demoralizing to omegas.

He probably got off on an omega writing about how utterly pliant he should be to the will of an alpha.

As soon as he thought it Arthur felt distinctly nauseous. The thought of alphas sexualizing him often made him angry, the thought of this alpha, his teacher, not only seeing him as incompetent because of his nature but also as more of a sex object than a student made him feel sick and caused his right hand to let out a minuscule tremble that Arthur immediately hated himself for. No, it was best not to think about it. The teacher had had him write this specific prompt just to antagonize him. That was it. There was nothing else to it.

Arthur flipped open his notebook and jotted down his story, prompt, and anything he could remember about the central meaning discussed in class. He certainly would not be able to remember it himself, and writing anything contrary to it was just the sort of excuse the teacher was looking for to fail him. Arthur continued jotting down these notes as the teacher continued visiting students until the bell indicating the end of the period rang. As everyone rushed out of their seats and gathered their things, Arthur carefully recapped his pen, gently blew on his notebook to dry the ink, and lightly closed the papers over each other. He stood up and picked his satchel off the floor all in one smooth motion, and slipped his notebook into it in the next. By the time Arthur slung the bag over his shoulder, the last of the students were fleeing through the door. Arthur squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and went to follow them, hyperaware of the one person still left in the room. As he passed through the doorway he swore he could feel the hot gaze of eyes studiously following him out.

…:::*:::...

 _ **A/N**_ _:_

 _*I repeat from the beginning, Arthur is an unreliable narrator, as Alfred will be after him._

 _Anyway, so I've had this story hanging out in my drive for a while now, and this is the kind of omegaverse story I've always wanted to read, so I decided just to go ahead and publish it. I can't promise consistent updates, but I can promise updates and chapters of a consistent length and I know exactly what will happen in this story and when. The next chapter will be in Alfred's pov. _

_If you enjoyed, or want to discuss omegaverse or any aspect of this story or have constructive criticism of any type, really, please_ review _or pm me. I'd be happy to hear from you. :-)_


	2. Alfred I

Alfred ran two fingers over the bottom of his jaw once and then twice in front of the bathroom mirror, checking for any leftover stubble.

At least, that's what he convinced himself.

It seemed every other guy was shaving every day or risking an itchy shadow. Alfred was lucky if he could get the razor to his chin once a week without cutting off nothing but skin. Despite this, he continued to 'shave' daily. Self-fulfilling prophecy, he hoped. He knew it would grow out one day, the same way that someday the final bits of baby fat that had been clinging on stubbornly for years would finally melt off his face.

Satisfied with his findings, Alfred stepped back and ran a hand through his slightly damp hair, moving it to one side, wrinkling his nose when he found he didn't like it, and shifting it to the other side. He then decided it was too neat and ruffled it a bit, only to then decide it was now too messy and smooth it back down a bit. Of course, no matter what he did, that little bit in the front refused to stand down. He glared at as if he could get it to behave with the power of his mind. It seemed so childish to him, and he worried that people laughed at it behind his back. He had tried cutting it off, but it just looked even worse until it grew back. There was nothing he could do about it now, though, so he ignored it and concentrated his efforts back on the rest of his looks.

When Alfred was finally satisfied, he flashed himself a double thumbs up in the mirror, after which he left the restroom to pick out an outfit for the day: worn jeans, a t-shirt that was a bit on the tight side around the shoulders and chest, but just subtly loose enough around the waist to hide the embarrassing bit of fat that seemed to cling just above the line of his jeans no matter what new diet he went on, and his favorite jacket- an old bomber one that his grandsire had worn in WWII when she was a fighter pilot. Alfred then fiddled with his glasses for a bit. Glasses or contacts? Glasses or contacts? He finally decided on the glasses as he usually did. He thought they gave him an air of sophistication and his face the illusion of being a bit sharper than it actually was.

Satisfied with how he looked- just casual enough to seem like he wasn't trying but definitely not sloppy- he grabbed his blue backpack, stuffed a few loose sheets on his bedside table into it, and hung it over his shoulder as he rushed out of his room and all but tripped his way down the stairs.

"Geez, there you are!"

Alfred's oldest omega brothers stood at the bottom of the stairs, one tapping a foot impatiently. Mason Jones' face was arranged in his usual slight frown, made to look amusing by the too large sunglasses that seemed to have a taken a ubiquitous place on the bridge of his nose.

"Ya ya, I'm coming," Alfred smiled back, and then frowned. "Mason, your neckband."

"Huh?" The generously tanned boy reached a hand up to feel the dark fabric that hid his neck, "Ya, it's there." Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Ya, barely. It's practically hanging around your clavicle. You mind fixing it, Mattie?"

Behind Mason, as unassuming as ever, stood Alfred's one older brother- older by only a few minutes, that is. He hadn't said anything, but his face was turned into a frown and he was continuously shooting anxious glances at the wall clock. It was obvious Matthew thought they should have left already, and he was getting increasingly nervous the closer it got to the ringing of the first bell. Upon being addressed, however, his frown flipped into a gentle smile and he quietly moved forward to delicately lift his brother's neckband until it was tucked neatly against the place where his neck met his jaw.

"There you go," he nearly whispered in his soft voice.

Matthew and Mason were both omegas, but they couldn't have been more different. Mason loved to run around outside, he enjoyed the mud and dirt and tended to speak a little more loudly than was strictly appropriate. His pants were the shortest they sold for omegas so that he could keep from getting mud stains on them, and he rolled his sleeves up for the same reason. His hair was a black color that was a few shades darker than his brown eyes and his grin was often wolfish.

Matthew, on the other hand, had soft bordering-on-white blond hair that hung in perfect waves down to his chin and was almost cottony in texture. His eyes were a light blue that almost matched Alfred's but were just a shade or two off, catching the light in a way that made them sometimes seem almost violetish. He was quiet and soft-spoken, not speaking unless spoken to, and walked slowly with even steps. His clothing was always immaculate and he hardly ever wore neckbands because his closet consisted almost entirely of turtlenecks that went to, and sometimes past, his wrist and all the way up to the bottom of his chin.

In other words, Mason was an unconventional omega and Matthew was a perfect one, if a little taller than most would prefer.

Alfred couldn't help, then, that seeing them together often made him chuckle. Still, Mason was just turning thirteen, and these things were less and less acceptable with each passing year. Soon he would have to stop playing in the mud entirely and start more carefully observing social convention. Their sire had already made a point of frowning down upon Mason's slightly too sun-kissed skin.

"Well, guys, let's head out. I'll meet you at the door in a sec," Alfred announced.

His two siblings headed towards the door as directed, and Alfred strolled into the kitchen.

In the kitchen there stood a woman who bore little resemblance to her eldest three children, though she shared Mason's eyes and hair along with Alfred and Matthew's height.

"Good Morning, dear," the woman greeted in a voice that seemed like it should be loud but came out strained. She was their bearer, Kayaweta Williams. It was a last name that, as per tradition, the oldest omega of the family, Matthew, shared. Maria and the little twins took after her the most in terms of looks, Maria practically being an alpha version of their bearer with an only slightly lighter skin tone. In contrast, most people assumed that the darker quality to Alfred, Matthew, and Mason's skin were dark tans rather than their natural skin tone. Particularly in Alfred and Matthew since they were both blond and blue-eyed like their sire.

"I thought you might be late, so I prepared something for you." Her ankle long dress swished around her knees as she walked back to the stove. She flipped something from a pan onto a plate with toasted bread and then handed the disposable plate to Alfred.

"Thanks, mom," Alfred smiled.

"Have a good day at school, dear," his bearer requested, placing a gloved hand on his check for a single pat. Her white teeth shone against her light ochre skin for a second before her smile collapsed back on itself.

"Will do!" Alfred exclaimed, running out the door and already taking a bite of his egg sandwich. "Let's go!" he said to his siblings around the mouthful of food. He could almost swear he saw Matthew roll his eyes, but that would be silly. Matthew would never do something so improper.

Alfred threw the door open, barely catching it before it boomed against the side of the house, and stepped out. He paused only long enough to hold the door open for Mason and then Matthew before he slammed it shut again to the sound of two thank yous, one rushed and one quiet. He jumped down the porch steps in a single leap.

"Don't even think about it," he shot back at Mason, who looked like he was about to mimic the action. Alfred's alpha, that is to say, his sire, had been very adamant that it was time he act more stern with his brother with mimicking Alfred as an alpha instead of Matthew, the omega role model he should be copying. "Do it like Matthew," Alfred instructed.

Mason frowned as he turned his head to watch his other older sibling gently lay one hand on the rail, taking the steps one fluid movement at a time before he settled himself at the bottom. Mason's nose crumpled and Alfred could already see the complaint coming out of his mouth, so Alfred turned his body and braced his feet against the floor. He opened his mouth to give the command of an alpha… and then looked into Mason's round innocent face. The kid just wanted to have a bit of fun. It wasn't a crime.

Alfred swallowed his words. He knew what his sire would do, and yet...

"Like Matthew, please," He sighed, pushing as much of his disapproval in as possible. Mason wavered a bit but then walked down the stairs. Not gently like Matthew, but it was something.

Alfred smiled in approval, though inwardly he was chastising himself. He felt like there was something wrong with him everytime he couldn't issue a command to an omega. It was supposed to be instinct. He knew he could do it, he had used the ability on an alpha or two before just to seem more threatening, but he had never done it to an omega who would be nearly compelled to obey. It just… made him feel… something unpleasant. Though not doing it made him feel like a pushover.

Luckily, in his family, he was pretty firmly established in his position. Matthew would never disagree and Mason was usually kind enough not to. Maria was another problem entirely. However, she was only eight, and that fact served to already place Alfred in a solid position of authority over her since he was so much older. In fact, Alfred suspected that was really the only reason he could get her to listen to him at all. She was as stubborn as Mason, but with the added self-empowerment of being an alpha.

Alfred sauntered over to his baby. That is to say, to his Mustang Camaro, a classic yellow with black racing stripes. He opened the back door and Mason scrambled in just as hyper as ever. Moving to the other side, Alfred did the same for Matthew, who carefully settled himself into the seat and nodded when he was comfortable.

After he closed the passenger side and settled in the driver's seat, shooing aside a McDonald's wrapper as he did so, Alfred finished up his egg sandwich in two more bites and backed out of the driveway.

"So, Mason, anything interesting happening in school?" Alfred started a conversation. Of course, he was still chewing so it sounded more like "Mo, mafom, hyfifying hyphereohing hhohing hmph scoph?"

"Alfred," Matthew whispered. It wasn't said in any specific tone, but Alfred knew what he meant. He swallowed and repeated.

"Not really, this school is still so boring," Mason complained. He had been complaining about this ever since he entered elementary school at the start of the year. Before that, like all other kids under the age of thirteen, he was enrolled in elementary. The only level which was universally coeducational, as it was where children developed social skills and both omegas and alphas were taught the same basic math and science.

Now that he was physically presenting his nature, Mason was going to an omega middle school which, as far as Alfred could gather since he had obviously never experienced it, taught classes on the practical applications of math and science already learned and a variety of home ec, health, and other such classes.

"Oh, it can't be so bad," Alfred thought it sounded great, "you should be glad you didn't have to learn physics," he laughed.

Matthew turned to look even farther out the window. Mason just snorted.

"I think I'd rather do that. All the other omegas do any more at recess is hang out near the fence to try to spot the alphas at the school next door, and Kali went into heat yesterday. She's the first one in the entire class!" Alfred could just imagine Mason wrinkling his nose. "It was really weird, she bloodied her hand trying to climb the fence!" He exclaimed.

"Ya, well they say first heats are the hardest to control. The experience of that first wave of hormones hitting is supposedly euphoric in its effects. She probably didn't even realize it hurt," Alfred explained, basing his response off of what he had learned in one of his lessons on omega care in his health class.

"Don't be too harsh on her when she comes back," whispered Matthew. He turned back in his seat to look at Mason. "She's probably really scared of what everyone will say, and it happens to all omegas at some point. She was lucky…" he looked at Alfred for a moment and then back at Mason, "Just remember that you'll be in her shoes soon enough, Mason."

Mason was really the only person Matthew had any dominance over in the family and therefore could give direct commands to. Alfred was technically the younger twin, but he was an alpha. Maria was only eight, but again an alpha. The younger twins, Samuel and Rachel, were only a few months old and unable to understand any commands given. They were both omegas, but by the time they grew up Matthew would almost certainly already be mated and out of the house.

Mason nodded, and then added "I don't want to go into heat," in a grumble. Alfred heard the thump that signified the boy leaning back against the door. Matthew didn't reply as he turned back to the windshield.

"I'm sure it's not so bad," Alfred assured, "I mean, you get some days off from school and you're given free reign for five days when no one expects you to do anything. Sounds like a good deal to me."

Matthew looked down at his cupped hands resting on his lap.

"Here we are," Alfred unnecessarily announced, turning into the drop-off area of Mason's school.

"Bye, Alfred! Bye, Matthew!" Mason exclaimed as he shot out of the back seat, closing the door roughly behind him.

Alfred watched Mason to make sure he made it securely into the gate a few steps away and, satisfied that he was fine, pulled away and started the drive to his and Matthew's school.

As he usually did, Matthew deflated when Mason got out of the car. He always seemed to lose energy and a little bit of that perfect posture whenever no one but Alfred was around. Alfred never designed to point it out to Matthew.

"So..." Alfred tapped the wheel with his pointer fingers. Conversation was also a good deal more stilted when it was only the two of them, though Alfred secretly though that had more to do with the fact that he felt the need to fill every silence with conversation while Matthew felt that to do so was rather improper then with anything else. "Learn anything interesting recently?" Alfred tried, not expecting much to come out of that conversation. Matthew never learned anything that could be interesting to Alfred.

"No, not particularly," Matthew predictably answered.

"Cool...Great...Wonderful..." Alfred trailed off. He was glad of the immediate distraction of having to make a sharp shift into another lane in order to not miss his exit. At the very least, unlike all his other siblings and even, occasionally, his sire, Matthew never raised a single complaint about Alfred's driving. In fact, if Alfred didn't know any better, he would say the omega even seemed to enjoy the thrill of ninety-five degree turns and sudden applications of the breaks.

When Alfred had straightened out the car, Matthew even giggled lightly. It wasn't his real laugh. Alfred, as Matthew's twin, was the only one that knew that. Unknown to the general populace, Matthew's real laugh was just as loud and brash as Alfred's. Unfortunately, it was improper for an omega to laugh like that. Alfred frowned as the thought hit him, but then shrugged it off.

From that point on more awkward silence prevailed. At least, Alfred thought it was awkward. Matthew seemed pretty calm. Then again, Matthew always seemed calm. Finally, they blessedly turned into the parking lot of the school. Even though the two school buildings themselves were separated by an old concrete wall disguised as regal under ivy and rose plants on the omega side- mostly because the ones in the alpha side had all been plucked and shredded- the two things they did share were a single large assembly room and the parking lot; the assembly room for dances, coed after-school activities, and weekly social events and the parking lot because most omegas were driven to school by their alphas or sometimes a beta. Very few omegas owned a driver's license and even less a car. Omega ownership wasn't illegal or anything, it was just generally accepted as silly for omegas to drive since they were going to be escorted to all public places by an alpha, or at the very least a beta, anyway.

Alfred parked in his spot and hopped out of the car, slamming the door behind him before he walked over to open Matthew's door for him.

"Thank you, Alfred," Matthew acknowledged as he slid out of his seat. Alfred nodded and looked up. The alpha getting out of her car three spots down had paused at the sound of Matthew's voice, and his eyes were now looking up and down the sight of Alfred's brother. Alfred growled from somewhere deep in his chest. The alpha, who was a few inches shorter than Alfred and not as broad, assessed Alfred once and then twice. Alfred internally checked that his glasses were on straight, and his jacket looked casual over his jeans. He was on the verge of checking to make sure he was wearing pants at all when the other alpha bowed his head and looked away. Alfred thought he might have heard Matthew sigh, but it could have just been an unusually loud exhale.

Alfred escorted his brother directly to the looming gate of Bridgewater High*: Omega Division. Stationed there was an unusually large beta guard who was in charge of making sure no alphas moved past that point. With a small sniff of his nose, he pushed open the gate for Matthew, all the while glaring at Alfred to make sure he didn't even attempt to take a step forward.

"I'll be here at the gate to pick you up at exactly 2:30 to drive you home and return so I'm on time to practice. If you are not here around 2:30 I might have to leave so I can catch Mason, at which point getting home could take you hours." Alfred warned. Matthew nodded.

"Yes, Alfred," his jaw was clenched and his teeth didn't move as he spoke. Alfred found that a bit odd, it seemed an uncomfortable way to speak.

"Alright then, see you later, Mattie!" He smiled nodding at the beta guard who closed the gate behind his brother's retreating back. In some fit of melancholy that Alfred couldn't quite give reason to, he watched Matthew draw closer to the front door for just a little longer than he normally would, which is to say he normally wouldn't at all. His omega brother made his way as gracefully as always down the lane: steps measured, eyes on the floor, and back slightly curved with shoulders hunched in as they always were while he hugged his single large textbook to his chest. No one looked in Matthew's direction and he didn't look in anyone else's. He made it to the front door, which another beta employee opened for him, and entered the school without disruption. Alfred bit the inside of his check in some sort of ambiguous discomfort as he watched Matthew's lonely defeated trudge through the straight iron bars.

Then he turned around and headed towards the gate of his own school, wiping the feeling from his heart.

"Yo, Alfred, what up?"

The greeting came before Alfred had even made it to the gate. It was just a casual acquaintance who had turned away from a group to acknowledge Alfred's passing. The rest of the group all smiled and offered similar greetings that Alfred returned in kind.

"Nothing much, man. How did practice go?" Alfred shifted slightly in his walk, lifting his shoulders to look more confident.

"Eh. Fine. The varsity team is intense, but not really overall different. I think we really got a shot this year."

"Cool! See you later, man," Alfred continued on his way. Pulling open the large gates he walked himself into an area that looked like a mirror world version of the omega grounds he had just been observing through the iron gate. The landscaping and the building facade were almost identical. The differences stemmed from the fact that where there should have been grass there was mostly pulled up dirt from trampling feet and trips, slips, and falls; and part of the left side of the building had been graffitied this morning. Alfred knew it had been done this morning because they painted over the wall every night. Until the end of the day, though, the newly added block letters that spelled out an expletive would be highly visible.

Some feet to his right, a few of Alfred's football buddies were predictably passing around a pigskin. To his left two alphas' play fighting was devolving into actual fighting as they started to yell at each other about an omega whose scent clung strongly to both of them. Alfred wrinkled his nose. It really was disgusting when an omega slept around.

Alfred quickly made his way past those two, all the while responding happily to 'hellos' and 'heys' and 'what's ups' until he joined up with his friends juggling the football.

"Hey, Alfred!" A thin dark brown skinned alpha changed the trajectory she had been about to throw the ball in and instead lobbed it at Alfred in a beautiful spinning spiral.

Alfred plucked it out of the air before responding with a forcefully casual shrug.

"Hey,"

That greeting was followed by those of the other members of their uneven circle, and Alfred returned them in kind as he tossed the ball over the head of a tall pale redheaded guy who ran backward, pulling up what little grass there was behind him, to catch it securely in his arms.

"So, Alfred," started a different female alpha, this one with peach skin and dirty blonde hair that grew down to her waist in messy waves, "we were just talking about that fucking hot, pun intended, omega that started this year. You seen him?"

"I'm going to need more details than that," Alfred laughed.

"Long legs and damn curvy in all the right places, dark hair and the greenest eyes you've ever seen," answered a brown-haired male alpha with sandy skin.

"Male?" Clarified Alfred. He got an affirmation. "Oh, ya, I've seen him. Jason, I think."

"Dude! How do you know that?"

"I have an omega brother, remember? Mentioned him once." It had been a passing mention, Jason was Matthew's new partner in one or other of his classes. Alfred had nothing against the omega, but he didn't really find him that attractive, even though he could see, conventionally, how he might be so. He was just too... Well, Alfred couldn't put his finger on it, but the omega was definitely too something.

"Well, forget his name," the last unspoken member of their group scoffed," I just want to know what he looks like on his knees," she made a sort of crude pelvic motion using the football with a sly smirk.

Alfred laughed.

Everyone else joined in in agreement.

"He have an alpha?" the first girl aimed at Alfred. Alfred shrugged, he didn't know anything more than his name. Then he worried that a shrug was too lazy and unsatisfactory an answer, so he quickly searched for something else to say. "Don't know, he isn't bonded though," he thought back to the times he'd maybe seen him while picking up and dropping off Matthew, "and I've never seen him with any sort of familial alpha," he added.

"Probably from a beta family, then. God, doesn't that make life easier. The beta raised ones are always so confused and desperate, makes 'em over-eager to please in the nest… or anywhere else you can get them alone," the brown-haired boy joked with a wink.

"Well, not easier for him," Alfred added, feeling sympathy for the poor kid who didn't have an alpha to take care of him.

"I guess not, but that's perfect one-night material right there," the blonde licked her lips.

At that Alfred couldn't help but imagine Jacob lying in a rumpled nest with his skin flushed, one hand fisted in a body pillow, pretty green eyes half-lidded, and long legs spread, with no other alphas even detectable. Alfred couldn't help but agree.

When the five-minute bell rung the pigskin was dropped- it was school property probably purchased in some sort of bid to get alphas to channel their destructive energy to something less messy- and the group headed inside.

"See you later, guys," the blond and the redhead both shouted out as they headed down a different hallway than the rest of the group. Soon after, the rest followed in their own separate directions, and Alfred was the only one left still going straight. His class was near the end of the same hallway that the front door led straight into.

Advanced Placement Chemistry, Alfred loved science as much as the next guy (probably more), but even he could admit it wasn't the best way to start out a Monday morning. Now if it was physics, there's a pick me up. Well, it could have been worse. At least it wasn't English.

Alfred sat in his usual spot, not too close to the front that he got mixed up with all the overachieving teacher's pets, but not so far back that it seemed he wasn't even paying attention either.

"Hey, Alfred," greeted his lab partner. He was an averagely sized male alpha with a light umber skin tone.

"Hey, Eric," Alfred greeted back.

"Did you get the calculations for the titration?" Eric asked,

"Ya, totally. Here, man" Alfred bent into his bag and pulled out his lab notebook, flipping it open on the desk to a page near the front. The school year had just started, they were still in their first lab.

"Cool, thanks, man" Eric started to fix his problem to match up with Alfred's, continuing conversation as he did so. Alfred hoped he hadn't made any stupid mistakes.

"How do you think the baseball team's going to do this season? They kinda sucked ass last year,"

Alfred snorted.

"Tell me about it. But no, I've talked to one of the players this morning, he said it's not looking too shabby. Thinks they got a chance this year,"

"That's good, think you can say the same for football when it starts?"

"Ya, of course, man, we're three years undefeated! My team's running hot. I don't see any problems turning up,"

"That's cool, are you—"

The bell rang and the teacher ordered everyone to gather their lab supplies, effectively breaking off whatever Eric had been about to say next.

They both got out of their seats to get their stuff. When they got back to the lab table Alfred and Eric realized they had both gotten sodium nitrate and hydrochloric acid, but nobody had gotten the flask.

"Dude, the flask," Eric pointed out. Alfred bristled at the insinuation.

"Ya, someone should get that," he harshly replied.

They both paused for a moment.

"I got the chemicals!" Alfred pointed out.

"So did I!" Eric replied.

Alfred placed his right hand on the desk and slid it forward a bit, leaning with his shoulders.

"I have the chemicals. Get the flask," he demanded.

The corner of Eric's mouth shifted upwards in amusement.

"I'm not an omega. You can't tell me what to do just by sounding scary,"

Alfred flinched a little at his slip up but covered it up by shifting to stand up straighter and lean forward farther. One. Two. Three. Four. Five seconds of eye contact. Maybe he should just go grab the flasks. But what if Eric lost all respect for him? Who else was watching their little showdown? What would they think of him if he backed down?/p

Luckily, Eric grabbed his bottles and headed towards the cabinets before Alfred had to answer any of that. Alfred sighed in relief as a rush of satisfaction flowed through him. There was no feeling like the one an alpha got from being in control. It was a biological reaction, learning about it had been an important class in health. /p

Alphas had a hormonal system in which chemicals were released that rewarded acts of dominance with pleasure. Omegas had one that did the same with acts of submission, so he heard. Therefore, just as pleased as an alpha felt dominating, an omega felt submitting. It truly was a rather efficient system in Alfred's opinion.

When Eric came back he banged the beaker on the table as they both donned their aprons and goggles.

"No hard feelings?"Alfred offered, maybe a bit too hopeful.

"Na," Eric replied with a smile.

At this stage in their lives, alphas often got into dominance fights for the pettiest of reasons. If they didn't forgive each other easily they would soon run out of friends. The fights were simply a part of development. The same way, Alfred had been taught, that omegas needed to regularly hear commands from an alpha to grow up correctly. It was why beta parents often had problems.

They set up the titration in companionship. Discussing stats and opinions about different sports teams and offering suggestions to each other about the lab as they watched the liquid slowly drip into the beaker.

"Dude, that's it, pink," Eric quickly turned off the tap and Alfred grabbed the solution. He surveyed it for a minute and then shrugged.

"Looks about right, what is it?"

"Point eighty-three," the other alpha replied.

"Cool. Move on to the next one?"

Alfred poured the contents of the beaker down the sink as Eric nodded and did the same with the pipette.

"Alright, class," the teacher announced about an hour later as she found that everyone was finished with at least their third titration, "I want each partnership to write their results on the whiteboard under the appropriate columns. Please take notes on the results of your peers, as you will be asked to average them out and come up with error analysis," she reminded.

Alfred dogged over to the board and grabbed a marker, writing their results at the very top. The beta he passed the marker to afterward rolled her eyes, and Alfred deflated a bit in embarrassment as he headed back to his workstation to collect his books.

"See you later, dude," Alfred threw out as he scooped up his stuff and strode out of the classroom.

"See you later," Eric replied as he preoccupied himself with stacking his own stuff.

The halls were, as always, a mess. With alphas running, skidding, and talking boisterously in groups. Alfred took up a light jog as he weaved between, around, and over arms, sides, and sprawled out legs, throwing greetings all the while.

He was just taking a corner when another alpha slammed into him while trying to catch a ball someone else had thrown to her from a good distance down the corridor.

In a bit of bad luck, Alfred stumbled sideways and slammed directly into The Portal. All the alphas close enough to notice the commotion, which was about five plus the one that had slammed into him, quieted and stared. Alfred backed up and ran a hand through his hair, chuckling just a bit nervously at the beta guard that was giving him an acidic stare.

"Ha," he laughed lightly, "sorry, man," the guard just stared some more.

The Portal was the name alphas had given to the door that connected the alpha side of the school to the omega one. It was for strict use by betas only, as they were the only ones who could take classes in both schools. Rather than go out to the front gate only to double back on the other side, they took The Portal. In other words, a normal hallway that you would think was holy ground with the way the school board treated it. That, combined with the fact that it practically took you to a whole different world, had earned it it's universal nickname. It was kept under constant surveillance from both sides from the moment the school opened to the second the doors were closed after the last extracurricular activity.

The board was not about to let its reputation go to the wayside because they didn't prevent a rowdy alpha from taking advantage of an impressionable omega. The guards that were stationed there, as well as the ones in the front of the school, were just about the meanest betas any of the alphas had ever met, and all agreed they were the only ones possibly worth an alpha's fear.

"Well… I'll just be going then," Alfred flashed a smile and backed up a little (not that he was actually afraid, it was just…). The beta grunted and resumed his stoic post in front of The Portal's plain white door. Alfred pivoted and strode away as the alphas around him snorted a bit, one offering a 'sorry, man'. He flushed in embarrassment. Alfred knew he was imagining it, but he thought he could still feel the disapproving eyes of the beta and laughing eyes of the alpha's watching him as he resumed his jog down the hall.

...:::*:::...

 **A/N** _: Tip to all aspiring writers out there, as a general rule (as if_ i _have any authority), don't start a chapter or story with characters getting up or getting ready. I had this laid out a long time ago, so it's too late for me. XD Plus since it's fanfiction_ i _can count on my readers already being attached to the characters, but seriously, try not to do it. lol._

 _Next chapter: A little more of Arthur's... less likable side, since we've gotten so much of Alfred's. from here the chapters will prob be a sort of half and half deal in regards to perspective._


	3. Converging Paths

_**AN** :_ _TW for derogatory language towards women and violent threats and language that aren't perceived by_ mc as _negatively as they should be (again,_ i _feel the need to stress they are BOTH unreliable narrators, not just Alfred)._

* * *

It was three days later before anything much different happened in Alfred's routine. Not that his day was particularly structured, but surprises like the one he soon faced didn't exactly pop up all the time, even if he really should have seen the signs.

"Alfred," there was a light knock on his bedroom door accompanied by a lighter voice.

"Ya, Mattie?" Alfred shouted back.

"Dinner's ready,"

"Cool!" Alfred slammed closed his textbook and had the door open before Mattie had even walked the few steps over to their younger sister, Maria's, room to repeat the process.

Alfred rushed down the hall and practically slid down the stairs before rushing into the dining room and finding his seat at the table. Alfred only slowed down when he realized his head alpha, that is to say, his sire as he had no grandparents, was already seated. His sire was always telling him that alphas didn't 'rush', they stomped always in control and not too concerned about anything. Alfred could usually follow this lesson, but, well, food.

"Hey, dad," Alfred greeted as he took his spot.

"Hey, Alfred," returned his sire, still dressed in her business attire, obviously just having gotten home from work.

Amelia Jones was a proud alpha only a few inches or so shorter than Alfred, who kept her amber blonde hair, the same shade as Alfred's, trimmed just above her shoulders. Alfred had particularly managed to take after her more than any of his siblings, even Matthew, the only major differences being her secondary gender and notably paler skin tone.

"Where's your sister?" Ms. Jones asked.

"Matthew was just calling her out of her room," he answered. Technically Alfred had two sisters, but Alfred doubted his sire was talking about the almost-one-year-old omega, Rachel. Much more likely she was referring to the eight-year-old alpha, Maria.

Amelia nodded to show that she had heard, and just as she did so Maria, followed by Matthew and Mason, walked into the room.

"Hey, dad!" both Maria and Mason shouted while Matthew gave a small nod and headed into the connected kitchen.

"Mason," Amelia gave him a stern look, "not so loud," she admonished. Mason blushed a little and ducked his head.

"Sorry, dad," he apologized.

"Mason,"

"Ya?"

"Go help your mother and brother bring in the plates," she ordered definitively in her alpha voice.

"Yes, dad," Mason shot out as he sort of hopped and sort of fell out of his chair and rushed towards the kitchen.

"How has your day been, Maria?"

"Good,"

"That's good," Ms. Jones nodded in approval.

Matthew walked in from the kitchen with two plates, one in which he slid in front of Alfred and the other which went to Matthew's empty seat by Alfred's side. Mason followed reluctantly serving Maria and then himself, and finally came their bearer with her plate and that of her bonded.

"Here you are, honey." Her mouth smiled as the lowered the plate.

"Wonderful, dear," Amelia smiled as she leaned up and grabbed her mate's long hair at the root, using it to bring their mouths together for a kiss. Once she had let go, she ran her hand over the exposed bonding mark on her mate's neck. Whereas unbonded omegas were required to always keep their necks covered, bonded ones were to make sure their bonding marks were visible at all times.

After Amelia had let go, Kayaweta strolled to the playpen in the corner, taking out two children, male and female twins about a year old. Both children, though they didn't yet excrete any pheromones, were known by the family to be omegas.

Alpha and omega pheromones didn't start to become noticeable until puberty, but it was usually simple to get a fix on their nature. If it was a boy and there were no testicles but was a uterus, he was an omega. If it was a boy with a knot he was an alpha. If he had neither, he was a beta. A girl with a retracted penis was alpha. The only more difficult group were girls that seemed to have matched up parts based on beta standards. They were chemically tested in more comprehensive ways in order to distinguish between beta and omega. Alternately, some families simply waited and let the nature of their daughter in that situation be a surprise. This practice was very much frowned down upon and used scarcely due to the complications that could arise in education and other aspects of life.

Kayaweta placed the twins into high chairs and gently took her seat next to Amelia.

"Alright, dig in." Ms. Jones smiled widely. She, Maria, and Alfred surged forward, carving various slices of meat on their plates. Mrs. Williams, Matthew, and Mason slowly- though Mason certainly faster than the others- did the same, favoring rice and salad.

Dinner was a loud affair, but one voice generally dominated. Ms. Jones asked questions or made statements, and whoever the question was aimed toward answered. Most were directed at Alfred and then Maria, some at Mrs. Williams and how her day had gone. A few disapproving glances were thrown at Mason and his hasty shoveling of food. Matthew was, as any grown but unmatted omega should be, all but invisible. All this was characteristic of a typical dinner at the Jones' house. But today, Ms. Jones actually turned to address her eldest son.

"Matthew."

The boy startled, taken completely off guard as his head snapped over to meet his alpha with large eyes.

"Huh?" It slipped out before he could stop it, and the disapproving glare was no surprise.

"Sorry," he whispered shakily, blushing deeply. Ms. Jones continued.

"Have any alphas taken interest in you lately?"

Matthew couldn't help that his eyes slipped over to his eldest brother. This was not how this conversation usually went. Usually, his sire would ask Alfred if anyone had taken interest in Matthew.

"No, sir," he replied quickly despite his confusion.

"Hmm," she hummed, "you're getting old, Matthew," Amelia Jones pointed out, "most omegas are pregnant by your age, and we are in no position that makes it difficult should you move out." She used her fork to gesture to the other omegas at the table. The utensil clanked against her plate when she settled her arm down again. She was exaggerating about pregnancy. It was true, though, that most were bonded or in a committed relationship that was almost sure to lead to a bonding. "You really should find yourself a mate. You and Alfred go to all the neighborhood social mixers, you've met plenty of alphas. What's the problem?" Her eyes narrowed as if she suspected Matthew had been chasing away mates or something.

She wasn't far off the mark.

Matthew was old for an unbonded omega, which was strange since, besides a few extra inches of height that some alphas even found attractive, he was a perfect omega. The problem, though, was that he grew up with an identical alpha brother. His eyes slipped to Alfred and they made a nervous sort of eye contact.

The brothers didn't speak much, they occupied roles that were too different. In one thing, though, they were in solidarity. A promise made a long time ago before Matthew had gone through his first heat and when Alfred couldn't tell the difference between himself and his seemingly identical brother.

Matthew was afraid of being bonded to someone he didn't love and Alfred found the possibility horrifying. Since they knew Alfred would be his acting alpha most of the time the two brothers made a deal linked by a pinky swear. When an alpha was interested in Matthew, Matthew would be the judge of whether or not he was interested back. If not Alfred would chase the alpha away or, if necessary, make up a reason as to why it wouldn't work. It was… untraditional. Now that they were older they realized it even bordered on improper. It wasn't like Mattie was going to be forced into marriage or anything, and to Alfred, it only seemed fair that if an alpha was interested he should get a chance. Yet it was a promise, a pinky swear, and that was sacred ground. They both realized how they had been wrong in making the pact, yet neither ever tried to stop it. Alfred didn't have the heart to say anything about stopping the idealistic agreement, seeing as he was a bit of an idealist. As for Matthew, well, he had just yet to recognize the right sort of person.

Luckily, the question was apparently rhetorical because Ms. Jones didn't push the issue any farther. That may have been because she instead decided to stuff a slice of roast beef in her mouth, or, if the look she gave Alfred was any indication, because she planned to continue the topic with the alpha responsible later.

Dinner continued, though Matthew was significantly more nervous and fidgety than he had been before, and that was quite a feat. Despite eating tranquility, both Matthew and Mrs. Williams finished before the rapidly eating Ms. Jones and Alfred. Matthew plucked on a stray thread from his woolen sleeve as he waited for the two eldest alphas to finish. It was uncharacteristic, he would usually be a mirror image of his bearer, who was looking blankly ahead with her hand folded neatly on the table behind her empty plate.

"That was wonderful, darlin'," complemented Ms. Jones as her fork and knife hit her plate with a clatter and her chair screeched back against the floor.

"Thank you, dear," accepted Mrs. Williams as she stood up herself and picked up her plate and her mate's. Matthew did the same with his own plate, Alfred's and then walked around the table to grab Maria's. He had reached for Mason's, but stopped when Ms. Jones came out with a harsh:

"Leave it. Mason, pick your plate up, and take one from Matthew,"

Mason turned completely red once again as he sloppily picked up his own plate, one of the pile in Matthew's arms, and followed his brother and bearer into the kitchen.

"Well, come on." Ms. Jones walked out of the kitchen and into the family room. Alfred and Maria followed just as Amelia Jones settled herself into her favorite recliner.

The sound of clattering dishes followed them from the kitchen where the omegas did the dishes. Ms. Jones flipped on the TV.

It wasn't too long before the other family members joined them. Matthew settled himself on the side of the couch Alfred was on opposite Maria, and Mason and his bearer took the empty loveseat as they settled down to watch.

Things took another turn for the strange, though, when the program was over and Ms. Jones sat up and shut off the TV.

"Darlin', you should tuck in the little ones, us alphas have to talk," Ms. Jones requested in a way that wasn't a request at all.

Mrs. Williams just nodded and took Mason's hand, pulling him off the couch with her. Normally Mason would have grumbled about it, but even he could see that his sire was starting to get a bit more strict with him. Matthew stood up and started to leave without prompt. He knew whatever his sire and younger brother were going to discuss was not something he was allowed to worry his pretty little head over. Alfred and Maria stayed where they were. Alfred with his brows drawn together in worry, and Maria with a smug smile as she stealthily stuck her tongue out at Mason as he was forced to leave. Her pride didn't last long.

"Maria, you too,"

"What!" she screeched, "but I'm an alpha too!"

"Well, this is older alpha business,"

"But, but, that's not fair!" she fumed. Matthew had already left and Mason was staring in from the doorway with his own private little smile. Kayaweta was waiting quietly at the door, ready to take Maria at request.

"Maria, you are still a young alpha, you are not ready to make alpha decisions or be involved in these sort of things. I will seek your opinions when you are older. Go with your bearer,"

"I will not!" she pouted angrily with a red face and while settling herself deeper into the couch with crossed arms. Though Ms. Jones had been smiling lightly with amusement before, it was clear she was no longer amused.

"Maria, I said go," the voice carried the strict command of an alpha and Kayaweta flinched. Maria's resolve seemed to melt as she bit her bottom lip.

"But..."

"Maria, now." Once would have been enough for an omega but Maria was all alpha. Two commands from her alpha, though, were more than even she could withstand.

"Fine." She slid off the couch and stomped towards her bearer, who placed a hand on Maria's head once she got there and herded the girl out of the room.

Soon only Alfred, his sire, and the sound of angry little feet on the staircase were left.

"Alfred, I have some news," his sire started, "you know, I've been getting a lot of promotions at work lately, climbing the corporate ladder and all that,"

Alfred nodded.

"Well, today they decided they want me to manage a branch,"

"Wow, a whole branch? That's great!" Alfred exclaimed, settling back into the couch from his previously stiff posture when he realized he wasn't in any sort of trouble. He had been afraid this would be about Matthew's bordering-on-suspicious lack of an alpha.

"I agree. The branch is in England." That was Amelia Jones: as subtle as a bulldozer.

Matching blue eyes stared at each other, one pair blinking in confusion.

"England?!" Alfred finally managed to choke out, "since when do they even have a branch in England?!"

"Since now, and they want me to manage it. They've given me a few days to consider the offer. What do you think, Alfred?"

Alfred wanted to immediately protest. He couldn't leave America for England. He loved his country, he had been considering joining the military out of school. He couldn't just trade in coffee and football for tea and soccer and prissy accents. Hot prissy accents to be sure, but prissy all the same.

Ms. Jones could see her son's thoughts written all over his face.

"Alfred, soon you will be of head alpha age. I expect you to make well thought out decisions,"

Alfred took a deep breath as he tried to think through it rationally. What did he think? He didn't want to move, that was certain, but what about his family? He didn't think Matthew would care much one way or the other, and Mason could use a fresh start to make a better more omegalike impression on people. It wouldn't affect the young twins at all, but they wouldn't remember their country of birth… they would probably develop the prissy accents!

"Would we ever come back?" he asked.

"I don't think the family would as a whole," replied Ms. Jones, "hopefully the job is long term."

Alfred nodded, having expected as much. Alfred's family was middle class. At the same time, though, it was ever expanding, as any family with a fertile omega was expected to be. Alfred and Matthew had been quickly followed by Mason, and he even more quickly by Maria, and the largest gap had been between her and the twins. The house was getting a little small for them, and they didn't have an extra room for the little twins who currently slept in Matthew's room, which happened to also be the nursery. Mason and Maria roomed together as well, but with Mason approaching puberty and therefore heat age, it wouldn't be long before he definitely needed his own room or needed to at least move in with Matthew and away from his alpha sister. That would probably put Maria with Alfred, but Matthew, Mason, and the two omega twins couldn't very well all share a room. They could split it up: Matthew and Mason, the omega twins, Alfred and Maria, but alphas were notoriously bad at sharing small spaces and even omegas tended to get territorial as their heat approached. Alfred's finger swirled his cowlick and he sighed in disappointment. At this point, he was just trying to justify his unwillingness to move.

"I think it's a good idea," he finally relented.

Ms. Jones smiled widely and laughed, "I think so too. This will be good for us, Alfie, you'll see. I don't want to leave the good ol' U.S. of A. for some brits either, but hey, sometimes you gotta roll with the punches, huh, squirt?" she got up and punched Alfred's shoulder. Alfred smiled back,

"Ya, I guess you're right,"

"And who knows, maybe you'll meet a sweet British omega with a killer accent to settle down with,"

"Dad, you know American omegas are the only ones for me,"

"That's what I said before I met your bearer in Canada. One glance of that pretty face and I knew she'd be mine. Just keep your eyes open,"

Alfred rolled his eyes as he stood himself up and the two of them sauntered out of the room.

"It's not going to happen,"

"Whatever you say. Now, to tell your bearer the news," Ms. Jones announced as she headed towards the bedroom she shared with her mate. Alfred too headed up to bed, emotions, despite his outer calm, rolling inside of him.

...:::*:::...

Arthur rolled his eyes and debated with himself as he stood outside that room, his foot tapping against the linoleum floor and lips swishing from side to side in consideration. He had gone Friday and that had to count for something, but he hadn't gone the three days before that. He decided he would take stock first and then decide.

Arthur slipped quietly into the room and took his seat no more than ten seconds before the bell rang.

The walls of this class were covered in posters: a third of them smiling kittens next to lions and other such animals promoting cooperation and whatnot, another third of toddler level anatomy posters featuring male and female omegas with arrows pointing to none of the important parts, and the remaining ones 'candid' photos of prim stereotypical omegas looking happily fulfilled as they leaned against strong stereotypical alphas. The whole room made Arthur want to puke.

He quickly looked for what had changed in the room, since omegas were such feeble-minded creatures that they had to be taught with props at all times. Sure enough, piled on the long table in the front were cradles and pacifiers and baby bottles and strollers and that was not happening. Arthur sighed loudly as he flopped down and leaned his head on his palm, fingers tapping lips. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad, he thought to himself, eyes shifting around as he searched for the other thing he always took stock of when he decided what he was going to do about this class. His eyes glided over an empty desk. Nowhere to be found. The only thing that could make this class anything other than boring and unnecessary was gone. That cinched it. The bell rang.

"Alright class," said an airy voice as its owner walked to the centre of the room with a completely ditzy smile on his face: Mr. Maxen. The man's long cream skirt that swished around his ankles and matched his equally cream gloves and off-white scarf, the scarf pulled down so that the bonding mark under his left ear was clearly visible. Other than that and his face, there was not a visible inch of skin on him. Cosmetics made that face pale and flawless with big doe eyes and small lips because, as the additive went, "a small mouth makes not much unattractive chatter." In other words, he was supposed to represent for his students an example of a perfect omega. Luckily for Arthur, this extended to his mind, meaning that, as alphas seemed to prefer, the man was a total ditz, and getting out of his class was as easy as strolling down the halls.

"Alright, if you would all just sit still and give me a moment to take attendance." Everyone was sitting still and there was near silence as all the omegas sat primly with their hands folded over the table. All except for Arthur who was still slouching with his hand over his mouth. Any talking was being done in small whispers, punctuated only by polite giggles.

Kill him now.

Arthur tuned out as role was called. There was only one person of any significance- in other words, the one omega of two Arthur could stand breathing the same air as- in the class, and he hadn't shown up.

The teacher placed the clipboard back on his desk.

"Alright, today we will start our unit on the delicate complexities of proper rocking and swaddling. If everyone would please stand and orderly retrieve a baby doll, we will begin." The omegas got up. Arthur mimicked the action, turned on his heel, and left the room. Some days he stayed, more often he didn't.

Arthur knew he was in a precarious position, being that he actually wished to graduate with honours. Skipping a class, no matter how useless, was dangerous. Showing up and then leaving meant no one was any wiser. His teacher either never noticed that Arthur disappeared sometime between attendance and the lesson, or didn't bother to report it. Artur didn't much care either way as long as he didn't have to concern himself over it and he didn't have to stay in a class dedicated to moulding him into someone he didn't want to be. Instead, he headed to one of the places where the other boy who had skipped, a good friend of Arthur's, was sure to be.

His path took him to the back of the school building. It was a narrow space sandwiched by the school itself and a tall brick wall. Sure enough, right past the ever-present boxes sagging with the weight of long accumulated moisture and smelling faintly of mould, one of the people Arthur respected most sat slouched against the ground smoking something (Arthur didn't know what, it was always something different).

The boy looked up as Arthur approached, previously tensed muscles easily relaxing.

"Oh, it's only you, punk bastardo. I thought it was someone important," the boy scoffed.

"You mean someone who could have you expelled?" Arthur smirked.

"Pft, no one is expelling me," he chuckled darkly in a thick Mediterranean accent, "my grandfather and his large donations practically own this place. They wouldn't let me in otherwise."

Arthur lowered himself to the ground and sat crisscross against the wall next to a pair of tailored dark jeans, a tight dark t-shirt, and shoes that probably cost more than Arthur's family made in a month.

"Nice to see you as well, Romano." He rolled his eyes. Well, at least, Romano was what the Italian boy was called by anyone who appreciated their reproductive systems where they were. His legal name was Lovino, as he was reminded every time attendance was called, but he prefered Romano. Something about the translation.

Romano scoffed and rolled his eyes, lifting his arm and taking another smoke, unoccupied hand rubbing furiously and compulsively against his upper leg.

"So what bullshit am I supposed to be learning right now?" It was Arthur's turn to scoff.

"More poppets,"

"Ugh," Romano groaned, "that bitch has been sexed up by that douche alpha of his so hard his brains have been fucked out. What is it, rocking again?"

"Yes, I believe that and swaddling,"

"Fucking useless crapola. There's only so much to be said about holding... eh, how do you say, bambinos...?" Romano scrambled for the word for a moment, but snapped with pride before Arthur could fill in the blank, "babies! There's only so much to be said about holding babies. Just don't drop the tiny bastard on its head. What more is there to it that he thinks he has to keep teaching it to us?"

Arthur found listening to Romano talk fascinating. Arthur had grown up with alpha brothers, he knew a curse here and there. The only alpha in Romano's life as far as Arthur knew was his grandfather, yet he always had something colourful to say. In addition, if it weren't for his neckband, which was sagged so far down that it pooled against his collarbone and rendered itself pretty much moot, it would be impossible to tell that Romano was an omega by look or smell. He laid back against the wall as if he owned it: one foot stretched out and the other angled far from it and bent taking up as much room as he could, his shoulders slumped in a way that said 'don't you dare touch me' more than it could be interpreted as any sort of submissive gesture.

Short of, Arthur assumed, sniffing his neck, his scent was pretty much completely overridden by the stench of smoke, a combination of nicotine and various chemical smells that might have been medications but also might have been less acceptable drugs, but that was the point. Romano had told him as much. Both omegas basically had the life goal of "sticking a middle finger up the ass of society" as Romano had once so eloquently put it. They just did so in different ways. Arthur was intelligent, strong-willed, and controlling. Romano was clever, loud-mouthed, and often offensively apathetic. To Arthur, it was a brush of fresh air. There were only about two omega's Arthur could sympathize with, much less relate to, and maybe in different circumstances, Romano wouldn't be one of them. For now, though, in this world, he certainly was.

"So, have you seen my fratello today?" Romano asked, seemingly offhandedly, though Arthur could see something of concern in the set of his lips. It used to take Arthur a while to remember the meaning of 'fratello', it was the one English words both brothers seemed unwilling to use in reference to each other.

"Um," Arthur searched his memories, "Yes, I passed him by in the hall after first period," he had only noticed the boy because he looked so much like Romano that Arthur had to take a second look to make sure. Of course, the large smile on his face and snuggly fitted neckband quickly assured him that it wasn't.

Feliciano was a… nice person, but that wasn't a trait Arthur admired much in omegas. To be honest, Arthur wasn't too fond of him. Too much acceptance and subservience in the small russet-haired boy for Arthur to come anywhere close to respecting him.

"Who was he with?" Romano asked, purposely not making eye contact.

Arthur had a hard time telling exactly how Romano felt about Feliciano. They certainly weren't anything alike, and Romano always said his name with a bit of contempt. Arthur had always gotten the sense that Romano was somewhat envious of Feliciano, which Arthur supposed could be understandable- ignorance was bliss after all. However, moments like these when Romano tried so hard not to show concern that was obviously there made Arthur wonder how much of it all was an act. It made him think maybe there was a side to Feliciano that Arthur had never really encountered.

"I don't particularly recall," Arthur answered "... a blond. I believe he was following a blond. Didn't get close enough to smell, but big stature, no neck band… alpha? Oh!" he suddenly realised what was happening, "is he…"

"Not if I can fucking help it!" Lovino growled, smashing his hand- and his smoke- roughly onto the ground. He then looked down at the ruined drag and groaned. "He's been following this potato-bastard around for a while. He's a natural flirt, though he tries not to do it because it isn't 'proper', but he's been oddly serious lately. I think he actually wants the bastard to mate him,"

Although not at all a proper way to address a bonding, Arthur realised 'mate' might have been the least vulgar way Romano had ever addressed the process. Things must be serious.

"Will the alpha go for him?"

"Pft, why wouldn't he?" Romano casually waved an arm in front of him, "besides being a chatterbox, Feli is a perfect little omega. How could anyone not love him?"

"Ha, yes, 'love'," Arthur scoffed, "I'm sure that's what he would want Feli for, what all alphas want an omega for, to 'love'." Normally Romano would laugh, but he must've truly cared about this issue because his hands formed knuckles against the ground.

"I swear, if he does anything to Feli!" Arthur thought back as hard as he could to the brief look he got of the alpha.

"What will you do? He's a blond hulk, at least two heads taller than either of us. And he's an alpha, let's not forget. We're just little omegas, he can do what he wants to your brother, and if what you say about the flirting is true, everyone will say it was his fault for 'inviting' it," Arthur sang in a bitter mocking tone.

"Ugh!" Romano banged his head back against the wall so hard it made Arthur flinch, but the Italian boy didn't even seem to notice. "Damn it! I'll fucking find a way, see how many shits I give, even if I have to pry Feli from his cold dead hands. I am never going to let an alpha fuck me into a nest, so it's not like I have much of a future life to give up. What job could an unmated omega get? I'd do it, you know, I really would." There was a firm sort of gleam in Romano's otherwise uncertain hazel eyes and Arthur didn't doubt his words. Maybe he should have been more concerned about it but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"I'll root for you," he answered instead, "What year is he in anyway? He's… well defined,"

"Two beneath ours, if you'll believe it. I tried to tell Feli he was too young for him, being a level below him and all, but Feli said he thought it was 'cute,'"

"It's abnormal," Arthur agreed, "but not so much as to make it unfeasible, especially when the alpha looks like that,"

"I know that, damn it!" Romano snapped.

"I can keep an ear to the ground about him," Arthur offered, "see if I can't dig up any dirt on him you can use to keep him away from your brother.

"Whatever," Romano huffed, and Arthur knew that was his version of thank you.

They descended into silence as Romano shuffled the ashes left on the ground and Arthur closed his eyes and breathed in the smoky air. It was a while later that Romano broke the silence. Arthur knew he was more uncomfortable with the lack of noise than he let on.

"So, your bastard brothers done anything else shitty recently?" Romano asked. Arthur huffed.

"Would you like a list? Though, honestly, there is really not much they can do. Most of them are gone, and I just avoid Patrick. Though Allistor, his mate, and Dylan are coming over for mum's birthday. That should be... fun,"

"At least you can avoid the alpha that lives with you. I wish I could keep Nonno, my grandfather that is, from trying to dominate every part of my life. He has a sixth sense for improper behaviour, you know. Always catches me when I try to sneak out,"

"Dreadful," Arthur sympathised.

The faint sound of a bell carried out to them from the other side of the concrete wall they leaned on. Arthur shuffled himself up from the ground and did a small stretch.

"Last period, you joining me?" he questioned.

"It's about fucking time, ya, I'll go to the last one, why the fuck not? It's just dumb shit English,"

Arthur rolled his eyes as he dismissed the, for once unintentional, indirect insult. Romano slowly crunched his way off the ground in a way that suggested he hadn't gotten up in hours. Arthur couldn't help but cringe when his knees and back cracked loudly in the silence, but Romano didn't even try to stretch out the stiffness. Instead, he straightened out his collar and wiped his pants, but didn't even touch his sagging neckband. It made him uncomfortable, but Arthur didn't say anything.

The pair headed inside

…:::*:::...

As Arthur made his way out of the front doors with the flow of students after the final bell, a large presence appeared at his side.

"Go away," he demanded, eyes rolling but not actually feeling at all threatened. For once he had no reason to be.

"Ya, why should I?"

"Because I'll kick you where it hurts if you don't." There was a second of silence.

The presence moved away,

"So you ready to go?"

"I hardly need you to escort me,"

The alpha shook his head of wavy orange hair, exasperated, and eyes the same shade as Arthur's rolled in their sockets, framed by two monstrously thick orange eyebrows.

"Alright, fine, whatever. It's not like I want to be here. I am your acting alpha though, you know. You kinda have to do what I say,"

Arthur scoffed, "Shove off, Patrick,"

"Right, whatever." Patrick, Arthur's elder brother by less than a year, turned to talk with a group of his friends that had caught up with him. He made casual conversation as Arthur made his way to the bus stop with the group following. Most of Patrick's friends ended up dispersing, but a few of them boarded the bus with him and Arthur. Arthur ignored the fact that few alphas 'flirted' at him, and any that did try were discouraged by a half-hearted growl that he pretended not to hear.

Arthur had heard omega's in those sappy romantic movies and what not call it 'sweet' how their alphas protected them. Arthur called it possessive. They just didn't want someone else touching their stuff.

They got off at their stop and Arthur strode home in such a way that made it difficult to ascertain if the alpha walking behind him was his or just walking within arms reach. However, the similar familial scents made the relationship clear, especially when they both turned the eerie penetrating power of their matching eyes on any particularly unruly alpha.

When they reached their home a few minutes later, Arthur was a few metres in front of Patrick and attempted to slam the door in his brother's face. Unfortunately, Patrick was used to Arthur's temperament and was expecting it. He easily caught it and walked inside himself. He kicked his shoes off in the foyer while Arthur wiped his on the mat and picked them up to take to his room.

"Da' we're home," Patrick shouted in a rather cliched fashion that had Arthur rolling his eyes.

"There's a snack in the kitchen," George Kirkland shouted back. Their father worked an odd hour job with not many hours to speak of as a realtor, while their mum worked longer shifts as a fairly successful architect.

The boys went in search of the promised food. Apparently 'there are snacks in the kitchen' translated to 'the scones from this morning are still in the kitchen'. Arthur rolled his eyes and grabbed himself some biscuits from the cabinet instead.

"Normally I'd say having only a stack of biscuits will make you fat, but you're such a sack of bones maybe a little chubby roundness would make your looks moderately tolerable, child birthing hips and all that," Patrick commented.

"Well, the plump doesn't seem to be doing so for you," Arthur retorted as he walked away to escape the alpha scent that was starting to burn his nostrils. Omegas were generally supposed to find the scent of an alpha alluring, and Arthur hated to admit that during his pre-heats he had fallen into that biological trap. However, outside if that time, and particularly with family, alpha scents were a whole different world. The less time he spent around Patrick the better.

In his room, which he thankfully no longer had to share with Patrick now that Dylan had moved out, Arthur sat back on his bed and took a deep breath.

It was silent for a moment.

Then he clawed savagely at his neck, clawing and pulling at string and yarn and popping the grey buttons on the back. He had made this one himself, he had thought maybe if it was of his own hand it would feel less like a collar. He had been wrong.

Once he had destroyed the band as best he could, he gathered the remains and dropped it into the rubbish bin he kept next to his bed. It landed on top of a pile of four others, which he stared at solemnly for a few seconds before turning away. Opening his wardrobe drawer he retrieved a deep blue neckband, the type of store bought one made of an elastic cottony material that one put on and removed simply by stretching it over one's head. He placed it smoothly on his bedside table for tomorrow.

Moving over to his satchel, Arthur removed his books and notebooks, placing them neatly on the desk in his room. Sitting down he sharpened a pencil and began his homework.


End file.
